


Gossamer

by RubyBelle



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyBelle/pseuds/RubyBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer and Tyler's relationship hasn't been going anywhere for a while now and Summer is, like, totally freaking out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gossamer

**Author's Note:**

> record low levels of research went into writing this

Being on the road is always stressful; Summer never gets to eat as healthy as she wished, she always has to fight to work out comfortably in strange new gyms, and the long hours being shoved in cars and airplanes makes her skin feel like dirt. She isn't as lucky as some of the other superstars, with their close knit groups that would ride together, so when Summer goes on tour, she's either alone, or sitting awkwardly in the backseat, her headphones in to avoid listening to some divas be better friends.

Her time as a manager, in some ways, was more difficult, and in others, much easier. She didn't have to stay in shape to fight, just to look good, and she finally had someone who wanted her to stay by their side. Well, it was less an intimate want and more a bureaucratic need, but it was definitely a change from relative loneliness, and it felt good.

But, after all was said and done, Rusev cares less about her than the Bella twins, and Summer is back to renting compact cars and googling what were the top 40 stations in every new city. By the time Tyler came around, she was sick and tired of just _being_ , even the things she loved felt so oppressive and exhausting.

Tyler is... Good with his words. Summer knows Dolph means well, but he never speaks to her the way Tyler does. It feels like she actually matters, like she doesn't have to put in effort to get Tyler to notice her, like he'll actually look for and find her in a crowd. Dolph keeps telling her she's beautiful as she is, but Dolph hasn't ever followed her across time zones to make sure she was okay.

Tyler has a private jet, so Summer replaces her drivers license with her passport. Tyler only works out in the morning, so Summer sets her daily phone alarms an hour earlier. Tyler never wears boring colours, so Summer packs away all her manager outfits in a box and hides it in the back of her closet. Tyler told her she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, so Summer makes sure to never be seen in public as anything less than perfect.

They haven't been together for a while, but it feels like their lives fit together perfectly anyway. Tyler never once gets mad because she takes too long to get ready, Summer's always given the extra card to every hotel suite Tyler rents, and their long nights together feel like something Summer has only ever dreamed about.

That being said... See, Rusev works fast. Summer had _thought_ it was because she's so much more ravishing than Lana, but now she knows that the only reason Rusev held her so tight so quickly was because she's just a pretty blonde replacement and he's lonely. Dolph also isn't shy, he's actually pretty adventurous for his age, sometimes even leaning on swinger tendencies. Summer thinks it's pretty normal to have sex on a third date, maybe second if outfit calls for it.

So, when it's been over two months, and Tyler hasn't done anything to get himself past first base, Summer's starts to wonder if _she's_ the one doing something wrong.

He isn't shy about his body, just the amount of times he's walked around her condo in LA wearing nothing but a silk robe was enough to throw that out the window. Summer's pretty sure it's not an issue with setting the mood, but maybe it is, because every romantic night in somehow turns into a spa night, and you can't touch other people when your nails are drying and your face is covered in clay.

Does Summer have to put out more? Even when she puts in her best effort to be as sexy as possible, Tyler won't give more of an acknowledgement than the usual raised eyebrow and sly smile.

Is it because she never treats him like guys usually like to be treated? That can't be it, Tyler's always the one dragging her into designer salons and asking for her opinions on colour combinations.

What is she doing wrong? It takes until Summer is frantically reading through trashy women's magazines for an answer while getting her roots touched up before she realises that maybe she should just ask him. Well, maybe not _ask_ , but rather put in all her effort into a last ditch attempt to seduce Tyler or at least get some sort of answer out of him. She's _pretty_ sure it won't end with them breaking up — her boobs are pretty great.

She pulls out her cell phone and texts him, knowing that if he isn't busy in a photoshoot, he'll reply instantly.

**ty do you wanna hang out tonight?**

**yea sure**

**i'm getting my hair done i'll call u when i'm out**

Tyler responds with a sparkle and kiss emoji, which prompts Summer to giggle. No matter how many times he did it, Summer couldn't get over how cute her boyfriend was. 

When she gets out of the salon, as promised, she pulls out her phone again and calls Tyler. He answers within three rings, his melodic voice unmarred by the call quality.

"Breeze speaking."

"Tyler, hey, it's Summer. You're not busy tonight, right?" She twirls a lock of hair around her finger while she speaks. She can hear people talking in the background of Tyler's audio, and she wonders what she's interrupting.

"Not really, I can always make time for you."

She's flattered, even though a part of her says that of course she should be treated like the queen to Tyler's king. "I just wanna spend some time with you, maybe do face masks, just relax."

"Oh, _God_ , yes, I need to unwind tonight. I'll be there around 9."

"Sounds good. Kiss kiss."

Tyler hangs up, and Summer wonders if he could tell she was lying. Not a big lie, but fucking wasn't relaxing, and she had no innocent intentions in sight.

She spends the rest of her day exactly as planned, but with an added dose of anxiety getting in the way. She may have smiled and texted Tyler casually, but four hours later, she's doing Pilates in the gym, her mind quickly and clearly running through every disaster situation possible for that evening.

"We aren't dating, Summer, honey, you're too plain and boring for that," her imaginary Tyler says, practically sparkling with his elegance. "Besides, I'm gay and you were just a side fling. Also, your skin has wrinkles and I'm taking back my hair oil I lent you."

The least harsh thing he can say was that he was gay, Summer decides, at least then he wouldn't have been, like, pitying her, or whatever. She can deal with him being gay — what guy in the locker room isn't at least a _little_ gay? No one can control that. But the other insults, especially side fling... Summer moves onto kickboxing just so she can pretend she's punching Rusev's cheating face.

She goes for an extra three sets of everything, hoping to get all her nervous energy out, but it ends with her gulping down ibuprofen in the bathroom, her muscles feeling like cottage cheese. So, that was a bad idea. The back of her mind tells her she's very good at bad ideas, which she tries to ignore. Summer can't figure out why she's so nervous, why something this simple feels like the biggest mistake of the year. She's sure she knows the real answer, but is too freaked out to notice.

When Summer gets back to her condo, she dives into the shower, expectations much higher than necessary. Monthly waxings aside, Summer grabs her razor and cleans her whole body up, not that she thinks a little stubble would turn Tyler off — it certainly never did for Rusev — but it's better safe than sorry in her mind.

Once she's out and wrapped in a towel, she starts to tidy up carelessly, throwing things into closets and baskets, even though she knows Tyler has been over at her worst, when she could barely do laundry for crying on her mattress over her most disastrous failed relationships. But this is different, Tyler isn't her guy friend, he's her _boyfriend_ , and that means she has to at least pretend she's put together. They normally spend nights together while on the road, or fly back to one of Tyler's many vacation homes, so him gracing her comparatively low-rent apartment is kind of a big deal to her.

Summer's standing in her kitchen, quickly weighing the pros and cons of cooking dinner to ordering food and whether or not he would even be hungry enough for a full meal when her phone buzzes, the delicate charm specific to Tyler.

**i'm here honey**

There's three gates to get through to get to Summer's door, and Tyler doesn't come over enough to know any of the numbers, so she runs down to get him. He's clearly tired, not exhausted, but his bun is a mess and his weight keeps shifting from leg to leg.

Summer greets him with a quick kiss and hug. Tyler hands her his bag, using his free hand to pull the sunglasses off his face. "My shoot ran over and the gym was packed, I'm dead."

"I've got some wine," Summer offers, and Tyler gives a little laugh. "Come up, you can put your feet up and relax."

Back in her apartment, Tyler dumps his jacket on Summer's large plush couch, grabs his bag from Summer's hands, and reveals his own hidden bottle of wine. "I had my valet grab this while I was working out," he says, smug as ever. "I thought we could do with some relaxation aid."

Summer takes the bottle from his hands and kisses him again, trying to simultaneously contain her excitement at the prospect of lowered inhibitions and also remember where she kept her decanter. "I'll pour us some while you get comfy," she says, hoping he doesn't misunderstand her words as something innocent.

Luckily, she still has some grapes in her fridge and chocolate in her pantry, so Summer busies herself making a veritable platter of late-night aphrodisiacs while she listens to Tyler connect to Netflix and click through movies.

When she comes back in, Tyler is answering a text on his phone, his eyebrows stitched together in frustration. Summer sets the platter onto the coffee table, catching Tyler's attention, who quickly finishes up his text and locks his phone, throwing it onto the side table. "Wow," he says, and just that simple word gives Summer a surge of hope.

"Just some things I had laying around," she says slyly, only partially lying. She sits next to him on the couch and hands him one of the glasses of wine, taking the second in her other hand. "Here, drink, unwind, be merry," she giggles, turning her girlish charm on to the max level. She wonders quietly if she should've applied falsies, but soon realises that Tyler would've noticed instantly, unlike Rusev, who always fell for the batting lashes routine.

They take some time to finish their first glass while Tyler continues to flip through Netflix's extensive catalogue, only speaking occasionally when one points out a possibility and the other shoots it down with indifference. They finally decide on The Princess Diaries after about six seconds of intense deliberation.

"So," she starts as the movie buffered, cuddling up next to Tyler, making sure her boobs had full contact with his arm. "How was your day?"

Tyler lets out a long groan, dropping his hands to his lap. "Girl, I do _not_ wanna talk about that right now. It was so long and boring and annoying, I just want to watch some romcom and relax."

Summer struggles to not let her failure get to her. "Oh, that's fine! Let's just do that then," she tries to smile, resting her head on Tyler's slack shoulder. The opening shot starts and Summer pretends she's focusing. "I'm glad you came over."

"Summer, even if you didn't invite me, I would've came over anyway," Summer fails to hide her smile when Tyler speaks. "I have bad days and I wanna see you, put my feet up, and just let all the stress of the day melt away."

Summer's eyes watch his hands as he gestures smoothly, and giggles when he drops them into his lap again. "Well, I'm glad," she responds, bending to the coffee table to pour herself more wine, grabbing some little bits of chocolate while she's at it. "I love it when you're over."

"I know," is all Tyler says. Summer lovingly bumps into his arm, eliciting a small laugh out of both of them.

During the movie... Well, Summer tried.

More than once they cuddled, but every time they broke apart to get more food or drink, they went right back to zero. Light conversation was made, but age had fogged their memories of the film, so unknowingly, they ended up actually paying attention. It didn't help that after half a bottle of wine, Summer was beginning to feel her muscles loosen and her cheeks tingle. She never _was_ a heavyweight.

They've emptied the bottle and Summer is entertaining the thought of stumbling into her kitchen to grab another (much cheaper and not as quality) one when she notices that, instead of having sex with Tyler, she's actually doing exactly the reverse, leaning on the opposite side of the couch, giggling at a dumb early 2000s romcom. Tyler's also relaxed, a very faint smile on his face, something Summer has never figured out whether it was his normal tranquil expression or something unique to them.

_Fuck_ , Summer thinks, stumbling to an upright position. Tyler gives her a questioning look but doesn't actually say anything. There's no way she can let it end like this, she has to do something. The movie is already over, credits rolling, almost ominous. Every other time they have any sort of a romantic night, it turns into this, wine and movies and while they haven't broken out the polish yet, these nights usually end with some new fancy design on Summer's nails, and absolutely _no_ canoodling.

She takes a couple of deep breaths, then presses back into Tyler, who accommodates her without a second thought, wrapping his lean arm around her shoulders. She tucks her head under his, forcing his attention onto her, giving out a little confused chuckle. "What's up?" he says, the words almost a hum, and Summer doesn't say anything, she just kisses him.

There's no resistance, but she didn't expect any, anyway. Their lips are in unison, his tongue quick and light, and Summer notices his entire body shifting to better face her. His arm around her shoulders stays still, not really a negative, but not enough a positive for Summer's taste. She wants him to lose control, she's used to it, she just wants this sort-of-relationship to be a definitely-relationship, something she can proudly tout about, instead of just lying when she gets onstage. She doesn't want to rush him, but maybe he just needs — a push, a little something to remind him that it's alright, and she's _very_ willing.

Carefully, Summer puts her hand on Tyler's knee, nonchalant, totally easygoing and not weird at all. He doesn't jerk his leg away or push her off of him or anything, which is both expected and a relief. Encouraged, she slides her hand down from his knee, closer to his gut, slowly, she's not trying to rush it, but her fingers are aching, sensitive to the feeling of his muscles tightening. The tip of her middle finger brushes up against his inner hip, not something she thinks is too much, but something Tyler obviously thinks is enough.

It doesn't have anger in it, the way he moves her hand away. He leans away from her, nothing about it seems forced, and he stands up, naturally, casually. Summer feels like her heart is going to explode in her chest, leave a raw gaping wound behind, and Tyler's face is calm. It's fake, Summer can tell, it has to be, it's a disguise for — for his disgust, his indifference, his panic, Summer can't figure it out, but she wants to say something.

"I'm going to get a drink," Tyler says, and even though it feels like seven hours have passed, he speaks like it's only been a couple of seconds. "Do you want some water?"

"Are you gay?" she blurts out, unable to stop herself. "Tyler, it's okay, I won't judge."

"Please," Tyler scoffs, without missing a beat. "Only those I deem worthy are allowed the privilege of getting to enjoy my body. Their gender isn't a factor."

"Then —" Shit. She's going to overreact. She feels the stinging of tears welling up in her eyes, keeps hearing Rusev yelling in her mind, telling her to calm down. Her vision blurs and she looks away, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to not let anything gross drip onto anything. "Then why don't you touch me?"

There's a very small sigh, nothing major, but it's enough to make Summer's blood run cold. She _really_ messed up now. She goes to rub her eyes, nose, face, to clear up her vision enough for her to clear up her words, to prevent any more damage from being done. She's probably getting hysterical — Rusev always _hated_ that — Dolph always told her she was a drama queen — now Tyler's going to lose it, too. She pushes too far, she does too much, she's so stupid, so selfish.

Before her hands reach her face, Tyler's hand, strong and steady, grabs her by the wrist, and gently pulls it back down into her lap. She feels a soft tissue be placed in her palm as Tyler speaks. "Summer, honey, you are going to ruin your makeup."

She sniffs loudly, feeling her chest bounce in a laugh she couldn't hold in, and uses the tissue to dab away the hot tears. When it gets soaked, Tyler gently takes it away from her and hands her a new one, remaining silent the entire time.

Once she thinks she's calmed down, after _way_ too much time has passed, Summer finally looks back up to Tyler, who doesn't even look annoyed. Just a calm concern, patience, and expectance.

"I'm sorry," Summer says, her voice breaking.

Tyler rolls his eyes. "For what? Did you get it all out?"

She nods meekly. Tyler reaches out to rub her back, which is surprisingly comforting. She feels a tension in her chest dissolve a little, Tyler's kind hand helping, and when he speaks, she doesn't even flinch.

"Summer, have you looked at your dating history?" he starts, and Summer feels a hot wash of shame. "It didn't work out with that Zuggo, so you started working with that… _hideous_ beast, and you were so head over heels that you were going to get _married_. And he was terrible to you, so you broke up with him on TV, and then you all of a sudden decided to date me."

Tyler's hand stops on her back, and she looks up at him. "Y'know, I didn't know that when I asked you out. But, when I found out, girl, I thought you were so messed up, I figured I'd give you a break from boys for a while."

He smiles, and it's a new look, sheepish and unsure, like he's out of his element, like he's stumped for an answer. His hand is still on Summer's back, warm and heavy, apparent.

"I didn't want to make you all freaked out, I just wanted you to take time to think about things," he says, and Summer can't even remember what Rusev looks like anymore.

Summer sniffs again, staring at her manicured hands in her lap, laying limp, holding crumpled tissues. Tyler hands her a fresh one, and she takes it gingerly. "So… you don't hate me?"

Tyler rolls his eyes again. "When have I ever made you think that? I'm touching your snotty tissues, aren't I?"

She has to laugh at that, and Tyler smiles, warm, genuine.

He brushes her bangs back while she wipes her nose. "You know I'm here for you, Summer."

It's strange, Summer realises, that she could feel this at ease despite having emptied her sinuses in front of the most gorgeous man on the planet. Strange that Tyler could somehow still be this sweet to her, even though she's a mess, an embarrassment. His words bounce around in her head, fall into the pit of her stomach, the sensibility of them striking home.

Summer wonders when the last time she was alone. She may have _felt_ alone many times in recent memory, when Dolph just wanted some space and she had to pretend to be alright, or when Rusev was angry and locked all the doors, but being actually alone? Tyler saved her from that.

Her gratitude swells up, thick in her throat, and she sniffs again.

"I… really, _really_ like you, Ty. You're so pretty and smart, you're really good at fighting and you're so good at talking and you — you're the best at putting on my eyelashes when my nail polish is still drying, and you always know what colours I should wear, you're really nice to me, and you always listen me talk, even when I think I'm being annoying, and when no one else cares… I really like you."

"Oh, Summer," Tyler says, leaning in, dabbing a tissue on Summer's cheeks, face soft. "I really like you, too." 

"Can I," Summer sniffles, her eyes still red and her nose still running. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Of course," he says, and he leaned in and kissed her.

When he pulls away, Summer can tell she's smiling. Tyler's smiling, too, and Summer wonders if it's for the same reasons.

Tyler's always so right, so gentle with her. It's a blessing, to have someone as talented and famous as him treat her so well. He's still self-centered, but so is she, and she honestly feels like the only way she's able to accept that fact is because he never makes caring about himself out to be a bad thing. He never makes Summer feel like anything she does is bad.

She muses on that while she speaks. "I need to wash my face."

Tyler shrugs. "We need to sleep. I'll clean up if you set up the bed?"

Summer nods, wiping away the last of the tears on her cheeks, her eyes still moist but not wet, no new pain. Tyler always did this for her.

She wonders what she could do for him, for herself.

\---

They wake up from Tyler's ringtone going off. His pilot wants to know when Tyler would be showing up for his flight to tonight's show, and Summer gets started on making them both coffee while Tyler figures out his schedule. When he crankily shuffles into her kitchen, she gives him a cup and a kiss on the cheek.

"You'll be coming too, right," he confirms, not asks, and takes a sip. Summer knows how much sugar and cream to give him, so his small nod of satisfaction isn't a surprise, yet remains a compliment.

"Of course," Summer grins in response. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Whatever you feel up to making," he says, sitting down at the island, watching her with a kind look.

She decides on French toast, listening to Tyler scroll through his many social media accounts, frequently reading out the many love letters in his inbox, occasionally chuckling under his breath. When she's done, they move to eat in the living room.

The news in the morning is bland, uneventful, but they aren't really focusing on that, anyway. Summer knows Tyler's thinking about last night — she definitely is. She wonders if he thinks the same as her.

"Ty," she says after a while, when almost all of her food is gone. Tyler throws a glance her way, but her silence prompts him to mute the TV and turn all his attention on her.

"I think," she starts, using her fork to push around the last of her French toast. "I should take some time for myself."

Tyler is reactionless beside her, she knows he's waiting for her to finish, that he knows she's not done yet.

"I just need to find myself, or something," she says, and the words sound like a sigh. "You're right, I've been relying on being in a relationship for too long, I think I need to, I don't know. Be single."

Hesitantly, she peeks up at him, even though she knows Tyler's not like everyone else, that he won't lose his temper or try to guilt her. She's right. Tyler's got a smile on his face, not exactly a happy one, but it's the most encouraging thing she could imagine.

"I'm glad you're doing this for yourself," is all he says before he goes back to eating.

Summer chews on the inside of her cheek, the next question pressing against her head, bubbling up her throat. Is it too much? Maybe she should just let it be. She's lucky he's as understanding as he is. She's lucky he's been here all this time. Should she really be asking for favours?

The questions mean nothing, apparently. "Are we still friends?"

Tyler immediately lets out a chortle, and shakes his head. "Uh, of course," he says, looking at Summer, like nothing ever happened, like they were back to their first time hanging out and she hadn't messed anything up. "Who else would I take with me when I need to go to a spa?"

Summer snorts inelegantly. They finish their food, and Tyler watches her while she washes the dishes, reading out headlines from gossip sites and laughing about inaccurate dirtsheets. They get dressed, packing up their bags for the day trip across the country for the show.

Tyler's looking for his jacket in the living room when Summer asks, "So, I guess we've broken up?"

He stops looking for a moment and looks at her. "Yeah?"

"I mean, I guess we weren't really dating," Summer says, turning her attention to the keys in her hand. "You were just being nice to me, so it's not really like we're changing that much."

Tyler's quiet as he puts on his jacket and walks over to the front door, next to Summer. She keeps her attention low, a little scared to look up, to hear Tyler admit he never really cared, but his hand gently pushes her head up by her chin until she's looking him in the eyes.

"Summer, I always cared about you, and I'll always care about you," he says. Summer's a little embarrassed by how easily he can say stuff like that, trying to get something as simple as an _I love you_ out of Rusev was like pulling teeth. "You can call me whenever you want, alright? We don't have to do anything, but you don't have to stop yourself from doing anything, either."

"You're pretty good at this," she says, and Tyler laughs as he lets go of her. "How many pretty young Monaco girls do you woo every day?"

"Thousands, but none of them are gorgeous enough to even get near me," he says, and Summer slaps his arm playfully.

\---

They get to the stadium with enough time to get in a full workout and light late lunch before people start filing into the arena. Nothing feels out of place, no one from the staff looks at Summer and Tyler any differently, they're still them, a pair, inseparable. It almost feels like a dirty lie, Summer thinks, keeping this a secret from even Eden, one of the few people she likes riding with.

Summer remembers how much dread she used to get when she thought about travelling. Going at it alone, or crammed in a car filled with people, it didn't matter, Summer used to hate it all. She just wanted to be with one other person who would always be there for her. But, now that she's turning it down, for some reason, there wasn't any restlessness in her.

She would be alone — and she doesn't mind.

Of course she'll still tag along with Tyler if they're both going the same place and it's longer than a four hour drive, but even that isn't really that much time or dependency. None of it scares her anymore. She wonders how long this'll last, actually hopeful the answer will turn out to be a long time.

The first few matches come and go, and a stagehand comes over to Tyler's dressing room to call him to the front. Summer follows along silently, holding Tyler's hand in hers, comfortable.

When they get up to the front, hearing the crowd cheering on after the end of the match previous, Summer looks over at Tyler, adjusting his cell phone onto his selfie stick. He notices her watching and gives her that patented Tyler Breeze smile. She gives one of her own back. Quickly, Tyler leans over and kisses Summer, a small motion that carries nothing but positive emotions. It's fast, noncommittal, but it makes Summer smile nonetheless.

"You ready?" he asks, stepping towards the entrance, the lights dimming in the main hall, signaling the beginning of his intro.

Summer steps up to get closer to him and squeezes his hand. "Born ready," she breathes, and Tyler's smile on his face warms to a soft sincerity that Summer knows she'll miss getting to see so often.

Then his music hits and his genuineness disappears into that handsome mask, ready for lights and sound, show time. The familiarity is welcoming, all encompassing, and their runway entrance out to the ring doesn't even feel like the last.


End file.
